Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Sri Lanka and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing 8 Eyed Spy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Mo-Dettes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fluxion,
Unwound,
The Real Kids,
Ultravox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cowsills,
Bluetip,
The Fortunes,
Mr. Review,
Harry Pussy,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Nico,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
The United States of America,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
Make Up,
Babytalk,
Black Flag,
The New Christs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Depeche Mode,
Carl Craig,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Matthew Bourne,
Sister Nancy,
Boz Scaggs,
Groovy Waters,
Spoonie Gee,
Lalann,
Japan,
Howard Jones,
The Misunderstood,
The Beau Brummels,
This Heat,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Kinks,
Black Sheep,
Marmalade,
Main Source,
Loose Ends,
Parry Music,
Unrelated Segments,
Toni Rubio,
Colin Newman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Country Teasers,
Yazoo,
Nik Kershaw,
Oneida,
These Immortal Souls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Monochrome Set,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.